Baelyn Rik'to - Chapter 1
by UncaGus
Summary: Currently untitled pulp noir set in the Star Wars universe. Baelyn Rik'to (Rik to his friends) is a down on his luck investigator on Coruscant dealing with a hangover when a beautiful Hapan (redundant I know) walks in with a case. This is just the first scene at the moment. More to come.


Chapter 1:

There are any number of ways a being can measure his status in the many layered strata of Coruscant's societal structure. One could count the number of invitations received to what each host bills as the event of the season; glamorous parties filled with glittering personages who mill about swilling bubbly alcoholic concoctions and pretending to eat tiny morsels of edible artistry created by chefs from across the galaxy. If you're into that sort of thing.

On the other hand, some prefer to count the number of favors owed them by the high and mighty. Members of the Imperial Senate, heads of intergalactic corporate heads, Jedi, Black Sun and Hutt bosses scratch each other's backs in an intricate web of favor peddling and alliances of conven-ience that was the real power in the galaxy.

For most of the rest of the souls on Coruscant struggling to get by or get over, you could always tell where you ranked by when or even if the rays of Coruscant Prime touched the little piece of plas-teel you called home, so you could begin to get an idea of where my life had ended up when you real-ized that it was well past midday when light managed to bounce off two residential towers and an Im-perial Security Force Divisional HQ and filter weakly through the grime on the portal of my office. Barely enough light to read by, it was plenty bright enough to wake you up when you don't have any eyelids.

Grunting and throwing one arm over my eyes, I reached out for my flash goggles. Flying across the room from where I had thrown them against the wall last night, I just managed to get them on be-fore Bettie opened my door.

"So, you are alive." The droid's voice was grating on the best of days, but with the crew of Ugnaughts pounding away at the inside of my skull, it didn't improve my mood.

"I'm only awake because I was too drunk or too stupid to shade the window." My eyes covered, I reached down and managed to find the bottle I had been drinking from when I finally lost conscious-ness. Empty. Shit. Luckily I was always prepared for such disasters. I reached out again and was re-warded with a fresh bottle of Dagobahian whiskey. Stuff won't cure what ails you, but it'll make you forget what you were complaining about in short order. I took a healthy dose.

"That stuff'll kill ya, Rik'to." Good as she was at her job as my secretary/investigative assistant, Bettie often labored under the delusion that she was my mother.

"Not soon enough," I shot back. "Did you want something?"

The bot walked in and closed the door behind her. "No, but the pretty little lady out by my desk does."

I forced myself up to sitting position which the Ugnaughts did not care for and they were not shy about expressing their displeasure. I took another pull on the bottle. Some of them got distracted. I pulled a cigarette from the pack in my pocket. Last one, I needed to do something about that. I crum-pled the pack and tossed it back on the floor.

"Hey, somebody's gonna have to pick that up you know."

"You sure are," I was, quite simply, not in the mood. I lit up and took a longer than healthy drag and started coughing. I really needed a paying client. Smoking and drinking this low-grade crap was starting to do some damage. Oh, yeah. "Did you say some something about a client?"

"I did," Bettie replied.

"I believe you also mentioned something about it being a 'her'"

"I did and she's very easy on the eyes," Bettie said, "Hapan by the looks of it."

"A Hapan, here?" I said, incredulous. "Sure. Pull somebody else's leg, mine's long enough."

I took another pull on the bottle and made to lie back down. I was not in the mood for games.

"No joke."

"Fine, I'll get up," I sighed. I stood up and tried to straighten the wrinkles out of my shirt. When was the last time I changed shirts. That was something that needed looking into. "Do I have any. . ."

"Right where they usually are," she said. "What would you do without me?"

"Let's hope I never decide to find out, for your sake." I retrieved the clean shirt and jacket from where Bettie had hung them on the wall and began to change. "Give me five minutes to freshen up and send her in."

Five minutes, a new shirt and jacket and a couple of breath fresheners later, I was seated behind my desk when she walked in. One look and I knew that if she wasn't trouble then trouble had missed its ride and would be along shortly. Even by Hapan standards, this woman was something else.

I worked my way from the top on down. She was nearly six feet tall even without the heels, not that I was complaining. Auburn hair spilled out from under a wide brimmed hat to fall across shoul-ders the color of cream. Despite the veil on the hat, I could see eyes the color of emeralds and a mouth with full red lips. She was wearing a dark red leather halter vest over a flowing jumpsuit made of a gauzy material that pooled around red leather high-heeled boots that matched her vest. Her billowy sleeves ended in leather gauntlets at her wrists and a small leather clutch in matching colors dangled from a strap on her wrist.

Despite her clothing, she was more than a pretty face. As she walked across the room, I could see she knew how to handle herself. Twenty years in the Security Forces were worth something. I watched her give me the once over but her face gave no indication of her verdict. She held out her hand. Her fingers were slim and elegant, the nails manicured and painted the same blood red color as the leather gauntlets but they were not the long style most ladies of the upper crust favored. Hers were just long enough to be feminine but not long enough to prevent her from using them in a pinch.

"Mr. Rikto," she said as I took her hand, "my name is Velara Djhal. I hope you can assist me."

"Please sit," I said gesturing to chair in front of my desk. "What seems to be the problem?"

She sat down and crossed those long legs, seductively draping one leg across the other. Pulling a small red case from her clutch, she pulled a cigarette and attached it to the end of a holder. "I hope I can count on your discretion," she said, offering me a cigarette.

I took one and ran it under my nose. As I expected, Kashyyk leaf, some of the best tabac in the galaxy. Wookies don't smoke the stuff, but then Wookies always strike me as a little smarter than average being walking around on two legs anyway. You have to admire a culture that has a knack for both horticulture and mechanical engineering

I pulled out my lighter and lit her cigarette. She put her hand on mine to steady the flame and a jolt of electricity shot up my arm at the touch and I could smell vanilla and cinnamon over the tabac smoke. I managed to hide my reaction by lighting my cigarette as I walked around my desk. So there is more to the allure of Hapans than looks. Good to know.

I took a deep drag of the cigarette and sat down behind my desk. I exhaled slowly, blowing a small smoke ring as I did.

"That goes without saying," I replied and took another drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs. I let her wait, hoping she'd decide to start talking to fill the silence.

Unlike most clients, she didn't fidget. No hand wringing or nervous glances. She stared at me from under the hat, never breaking eye contact. She seemed to decide I'd do, because she lowered her cigarette and took off her hat, setting it on the chair next to her.

"My sister has disappeared. She left the cluster three months ago to come to Coruscant to study at the University. We know she arrived but after a brief period she stopped sending holovids and we haven't heard from her since."

"Are you two close?" I asked.

"Of course," she replied, "Why?"

"No reason. What exactly is a 'brief period'?"

"A few weeks, maybe a month," she replied.

I took another deep drag and watched her closely. Why did she wait almost two months before looking me up? My antennae, if I actually had any, would be up right now but then I'm overly suspicious. It's a character flaw.

"Isn't it a bit unusual for a Hapan female to leave the Cluster for something as mundane as studying?"

She took another drag on the cigarette. "Chelane has always had, divergent, interests. She has always harbored a desire to experience cultures outside of the cluster. When the time came, she convinced mother to allow her to attend university here on Coruscant."

"Ah. Do you have an image of Chelane?"

Velara produced a holocube from her clutch purse and set it on the edge of my desk. Like everything else about her, the cube was elegant and spoke of a deep pool of credits. The image that appeared was not the usual blue-and-white grainy image but a full-fledged color portrait of a young red-headed girl more like a painting than a true depiction. Chelane's hair was a deeper red than her sister and, unlike her sister, not done up in an elaborate style but left loose to flow like water across her shoulders. It framed her face well, almost but not quite hiding one brilliantly green eye, a trait she shared with Velara.

Despite the similarities, I could see the differences in the two. Velara felt cold and I could tell that Chelane would not be, not just from the vid but from the vibe I was getting from Velara as I stared at the image of her sister, imprinting the details on my mind. I wasn't sure what it was, but there was something about her little sister that rubbed Velara the wrong way.

"I'll look into it," I said after a few moments. "Five hundred a day plus expenses. The first week up front."

She didn't squawk, which was another point in her favor. Five hundred was a bit steep but she could afford it. We stood up and shook hands. She didn't let go and I didn't make her. Her hand was smooth and warm and a tingle ran down my spine as I held it. I walked her to the door.

"Betty can help you with the deposit. I'll be in touch."

"Thank you, Mr. Rikto," she said, releasing my hand, not that I would have minded if she hadn't.

"Call me Rik."


End file.
